CMX - Alkuteos (2018)

1) Elementa; 2) Paratiisin Eeva; 3) Puolikas hyvää; 4) Konx om pax; 5) Verenpuna; 6) Sulaneet muovisotilaat; 7) Neljäkymmentä päivää; 8) Alkemisti

Something old, something new, and the return of the classic spirit.

Key tracks: "Elementa", "Paratiisin Eeva", "Sulaneet muovisotilaat"

With some (most?) of my reviews I like to provide an idea of the context behind the albums to give a little insight of how they came to be what they are, especially with these more "regional" releases where most people reading this have little to no idea what this band or album is. It gets a bit trickier with Alkuteos because CMX's website was hacked and deleted off the cyber realm in 2015; when it finally came back, in a typical CMX fashion the band announced they had no desire to spend energy trying to recreate the past and instead their website now (as it still currently stands) is largely just of a list of links on where to buy the latest releases. With the website, we also lost both the official biography where the band retrospectively revisited and reviewed their own past as they gave insight to each studio session, as well as the infamous Q&A page where in-between the band and the fans trying to outsnark one another they'd sometimes drop interesting trivia or detail behind the music when they were in the mood for it. 

That means we have to take some inferred guesses, and I think the genesis behind Alkuteos lies in the band's touring activity prior to its recording. In 2016 CMX took on a concept tour subtitled "Rarely Heard Songs", with the concerts dedicated to b-sides, deep cut album tracks and songs they'd never performed live before; this meant that CMX got back in touch with some of their most erratic work, lost classics that the band had shockingly forgotten about and other songs that fans had begged to hear for years but which had been deemed too difficult to reproduce live thanks to their detailed production and/or keyboard/synthesizer heavy arrangements (CMX having never been a band with a particularly elaborate live setup). The tour was a success, and when in the following year when the band revisited their bonkers space prog opera record Talvikuningas for its 10th anniversary, they brought in another trick from their sleeves. The anniversary concert started with a "Prelude to Talvikuningas" section where the band, all four members now behind synthesizers and laptops, reimagined a number of thematically appropriate songs across the back catalogue. And if you ask me, it's that binge back into the deepest sections of their archives and the adventurous spirit bolstered by successful risk-taking which ignited a particular spark they took to the next album sessions.

I dislike the phrase "return to form" but in some cases it feels appropriate to use. CMX had been slipping across the past few albums, simplifying their form and content to diminishing degrees of success and the band was acutely aware of it as well. Alkuteos is inspired by the band's past selves, and CMX even acknowledge it openly via lyrical references (and one potentially coincidental musical reference - the near-end section of "Verenpuna" is very similar to the ending of Talvikuningas' "Kaikkivaltias" or is that just me?). The prog dials are turned up again and Yrjänä has gone back to cryptic theological prose in his lyrics, to the extent that Alkuteos could easily be read as a biblically inspired concept album - it all seems like a homecoming after years in the wilderness. But CMX are doing their return in their own way and so the 'inspired by' part is really just that, because the sound is fresh. Bringing out their prior synth escapades and inventing the "Elektro-CMX" form (which would continue to appear throughout the Alkuteos tour) has left an imprint on the album and Alkuteos is the most heavy on synths and programmed elements across an entire album's length that the band's ever been. It's not the synth-CMX album some may have hoped to hear one day because the band's clearly present throughout and they are rocking very heavy and hard; but the new elements have a fairly equal slice of the pie of the album's arrangement decisions: the new textures and sounds share an even footing with CMX of yore, and thus despite being reminiscent of the band's past Alkuteos isn't a simple retread. It's almost a hypothetical reset, a record that could have naturally followed up Talvikuningas (the metallic bass twang even feels so in touch with that album's sound world) while bypassing the decade afterwards entirely. 

And for all its inherent mania (it is a very creatively mad album), Alkuteos is impeccably balanced and probably one of the best examples of CMX placing equal weight to, well, everything they're made out of in a single release. You've got your crooked and snarled prog (the chimaira-like couplet "Elementa" and "Alkemisti", "Konx om pax") and your loud and heavy guitars ("Neljäkymmentä päivää", "Puolikas hyvää"), but you also have the lush and welcoming melodic abandon that CMX used to be so wary about and now display so openly (the airy pop of "Paratiisin Eeva", the sky-reaching anthem "Verenpuna"); the warbling, keyboard-focused "Sulaneet muovisotilaat" is almost a brand new direction in its entirely. The indecipherable insanities are in harmony with the immediate choruses, like they had found a hidden formula after all these years; or it's simply the age and experience of a veteran band that has taught them to hone onto everything they are good at. With only eight songs and 45 minutes it's a compact run of songs where not a minute is wasted. It's almost economical in its approach, each of its songs assigned a clear and distinct role in the sequence where they all feel important and each jump out. 

It is a welcome return home. It's the most inspired and exciting CMX have sounded in years, and they sound so inspired and excited themselves between the lines too. When a band reaches back into their past the danger is that they awkwardly try to fit into old clothes that no longer suit them, but CMX have brought back the spirit from their revisit into the past and the songs have a spark that places them alongside any past greats. Even "Puolikas hyvää", the now-expected token single that always shows any CMX album at its most uncharacteristically direct, practically refreshes the ruleset on its ilk because it's so excitingly headbanging it's almost ridiculous, and in the album's grim sterness it's a welcome flash of fun that most clearly reflects how renewed the record feels. "Paratiisin Eeva" is near heavenly in its unashamed ethereal suaveness, the twists of "Elementa" never stop thrilling. "Palaneet muovisotilaat" may be the biggest surprise, unassuming as it is at first glance in its role as a short breather among bigger statements. Its cold sound, drowned in synthetic production, is the furthest the album goes in taking its newest elements but in its heart it's a classic CMX ballad that has been given a new skin, and it makes it sound all the more chilling and yet strangely resonant and impactful.

In real life, I had partway written CMX off at this stage after a string of disappointing albums. They had become a band whose newest releases I'd only listen to thanks to a feeling of old obligation, until even that slipped through the cracks - the release of Alkuteos came and went for me without a single listen. It wasn't until a whim "well-why-not" mid-price bin purchase that it came to my life, and it was honestly a surprise. And having come back to it again for this review, I've been listening to it for a good week while holding off on finishing this review just so I don't have to cross it off my list entirely and I can keep returning to it. It's CMX finding a brand new wind, whether through fresh blood (the new producer Erno Laitinen behind the decks) or by reminding themselves of how great they used to sound by dedicating entire gigs to some of their most creatively wild material - it doesn't matter why, it's simply great that it happened. You could even consider the title of the album a pun, the likes of which Yrjänä loves so much: it translates to "Work of Origin" and while it's more obviously a biblical reference in line with much of the lyrics' theological angle, it's incredibly tempting to also see it as a sly nod for this being a new start.

Let's see if it lasts.

Rating: 8/10

The Shins - The Worm’s Heart (2018)

1) The Fear (Flipped); 2) So Now What (Flipped); 3) Heartworms (Flipped); 4) Dead Alive (Flipped); 5) Half a Million (Flipped); 6) Rubber Ballz (Flipped); 7) Mildenhall (Flipped); 8) Fantasy Island (Flipped); 9) Cherry Hearts (Flipped); 10) Painting a Hole (Flipped); 11) Name for You (Flipped) 

An equally baffling and exciting run of increasingly out-there alternative versions that turn out to achieve something the original songs didn't.

Key tracks: "Heartworms (Flipped)", "Cherry Hearts (Flipped)", "Name for You (Flipped)"

I can’t say I’ve encountered another album like The Worm’s Heart. Artists re-recording and reinterpreting their old songs is nothing new and in fact is almost expected at this stage as the big anniversary numbers roll in. It’s not too uncommon either to hear a specific album with a new sound: e.g. Jim James, Conor Oberst and Manchester Orchestra among many others have released twin versions of a particular album of theirs to showcase the same songs in a different way. But then there’s The Worm’s Heart, borne out of James Mercer’s absolutely bizarre whim to create two completely unique versions of each song written for 2017’s Heartworms. And it's unique in the very definition of the word: these aren’t acoustic versions or slightly tweaked arrangements or anything even remotely similar to what was heard on Heartworms. The hooks and melodies on this album are the same as they were on Heartworms, but the rest is something completely new and off the wall. The sunshine pop of “Name for You” has become a 80s Depeche Mode indebted synth brooder, the formerly acoustic “Mildenhall” has found a fuzz pedal and a goofball garage rock attitude, “Dead Alive” is a goth ballad now, “Half a Million” goes reggae. Anything is a fair game and Mercer turns the previous The Shins album into a series of stylistic experiments of any genre or idea he could never incorporate into actual proper album of his, but this time? This time he's indulging in his wildest ideas.

The Worm’s Heart is obviously a mixed bag - how on earth could it not be? - but it's actually shocking how rarely the "flipped" versions stumble completely despite everything that's going on. In fact, in some measures this is arguably a better album than the actual Heartworms and that's because Mr Mercer's wild ride has a really infectious sense of fun. Heartworms was a weird album but it held itself back in some ways - in comparison, this is completely unhinged and I'm really responding to it. It's a complete mess of course, but in a positive way - in a manner that makes its incohesiveness its own mad rabbit hole that holds together by the sheer audacity of it. I don't think anyone could argue that this album represents Mercer or The Shins at their best, and at the end of the day as the melodies and hooks remain the same there's only so much that these transformations can do to uplift them - but it's simply so much fun whenever artists just have a go at whatever the hell they want and this is an album dedicated to that forbidden fruit of playing songs in styles you would never dream of otherwise recording because of some take on self-imposed artistic integrity preventing it.

 

Honestly, quite often The Worm's Heart downright improves Heartworms because Mercer's fearlessness gives him the means to break out of his creative shell in a manner most positive. Take "Heartworms" itself, and how its chorus finally gets the chance to jump out like it shyly backed out of doing on the milquetoast original version, jolting into the front of the race as a warbling, hyperactive synth pop number that’s a blast of energy and joy. I called "Rubber Ballz" one of the weakest songs released on a Shins album in my review of the original album and now its gently thumping acoustic form has a heartfelt sincerity that underlines the strength of the core melody that was practically buried originally. The too-cool-for-school synth pop vibe of “Name for You” is marvellous and an honest delight, a true love letter to a sound Mercer evidently has a great deal of affinity for, and it's actually more engaging than the very typically Shins-esque original version. “Cherry Hearts”, too, has simply evolved and it's now the jangly college rock number that it really should’ve been all along. There are also plenty of takes that simply stand on their own, including that reggae'd up "Half a Million" that starts out like a heart attack as it demonstrates why white indie nerds maybe shouldn't touch reggae, but it shifts and changes shortly thereafter to incorporate so much more than just a store value band island groove and by its end it's neck to neck with the excellent original; and similarly the new comically funereal "Dead Alive" is just so out there compared to the original (or anything else) that I respect it for it. 

 

As mentioned there are stumbles, but I'm still surprised just how few and far between they are. Namely, "Fantasy Island" has had the least changes and it's a little better than the dire original but not exactly notably so, and "Mildenhall" is responsible for a light chuckle when the loose and ramshackle rock riffs start but it takes about half a minute for the joke to grow old: the whole "make an acoustic song into a raw rocker" shtick is the kind of obviousness the rest of the album avoids and it's the most awkward fit in its new guise. "The Fear" is another bar rocker and while a little better, it doesn't really hold up for its whole five-ish minutes. But for a random pick 'n' mix album like this, roughly a quarter of weaker cuts is an unexpectedly high batting average - and even they're, y'know, memorable which is something I can't say from everything on Heartworms. The original album is one I'm still not entirely sure where exactly I stand on it even though I've reviewed and rated it and all, and yet I am increasingly confident in saying that this is the better version of the two despite how it's got the air of a weird alternate universe bootleg album instead of the artist's genuine vision. I've got a soft spot for albums that make it their central motto to keep surprising and which revel with a kind of creative frenzy that spray their inspiration everywhere and pray it hits the goal; but where even the misses have a rush of excitement to them. I repeat the word "fun" a lot with The Worm's Heart but that's ultimately why I appreciate it so much - it removes some of the self-seriousness that Mercer's been crippled by since Port of Morrow, and as a result his musical touch has grown warmer again even when he's doing a whole album out of cosplaying as his personal favourite acts.

Rating: 7/10

R.E.M. - R.E.M. at the BBC (2018)

CD1: Live Sessions 1) World Leader Pretend (Into the Night 1991); 2) Fretless (Into the Night 1991); 3) Half a World Away (Into the Night 1991); 4) Radio Song (Into the Night 1991); 5) Losing My Religion (Into the Night 1991); 6) Love Is All Around (Into the Night 1991); 7) Walk Unafraid (John Peel Session 1998); 8) Daysleeper (John Peel Session 1998); 9) Lotus (John Peel Session 1998); 10) At My Most Beautiful (John Peel Session 1998); 11) Bad Day (Mark and Lard 2003); 12) Orange Crush (Mark and Lard 2003); 13) Man on the Moon (Drivetime 2003); 14) Imitation of Life (Drivetime 2003); 15) Supernatural Superserious (Radio 1 Live Lounge 2008); 16) Munich (Radio 1 Live Lounge 2008)
CD2: John Peel Session (1998): 1) Introduction; 2) Losing My Religion; 3) New Test Leper; 4) Lotus; 5) Parakeet; 6) Electrolite; 7) Perfect Circle; 8) The Apologist; 9) Band Introductions; 10) Daysleeper; 11) Country Feedback; 12) At My Most Beautiful; 13) Walk Unafraid; 14) Man on the Moon
CD3: Rock City (1984): 1) Second Guessing; 2) Hyena; 3) Talk About the Passion; 4) West of the Fields; 5) (Don't Go Back To) Rockville; 6) Auctioneer (Another Engine); 7) So. Central Rain; 8) Old Man Kensey; 9) Gardening at Night; 10) 9-9/Hey Diddle Diddle/Feeling Gravity's Pull; 11) Windout; 12) Driver 8; 13) Pretty Persuasion; 14) Radio Free Europe; 15) Wendell Gee; 16) Carnival of Sorts (Boxcars)
CD4: The National Bowl (1995): 1) What's the Frequency, Kenneth?; 2) Crush With Eyeliner; 3) Drive; 4) Turn You Inside-Out; 5) Try Not to Breathe; 6) I Took Your Name; 7) Undertow; 8) Bang and Blame; 9) I Don't Sleep, I Dream; 10) Strange Currencies; 11) Revolution; 12) Tongue
CD5: The National Bowl (1995): 1) Man on the Moon; 2) Country Feedback; 3) Half a World Away; 4) Losing My Religion; 5) Pop Song 89; 6) Finest Worksong; 7) Get Up; 8) Star 69; 9) Let Me In; 10) Everybody Hurts; 11) Fall on Me; 12) Departure; 13) It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
CD6: Glastonbury (1999): 1) Lotus; 2) What's the Frequency, Kenneth?; 3) So Fast, So Numb; 4) The Apologist; 5) Fall on Me; 6) Daysleeper; 7) The Wake-Up Bomb; 8) The One I Love; 9) Sweetness Follows; 10) At My Most Beautiful
CD7: Glastonbury (1999): 1) Losing My Religion; 2) Everybody Hurts; 3) Walk Unafraid; 4) Star 69; 5) Finest Worksong; 6) Man on the Moon; 7) Why Not Smile; 8) Crush with Eyeliner; 9) Tongue; 10) Cuyahoga; 11) It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
CD8: St. James' Church (2004): 1) Intro; 2) So Fast, So Numb; 3) Boy in the Well; 4) I Wanted to Be Wrong; 5) E-Bow the Letter (with Thom Yorke); 6) Around the Sun; 7) Aftermath; 8) Losing My Religion; 9) Walk Unafraid; 10) Leaving New York; 11) Imitation of Life; 12) Man on the Moon

The people's R.E.M. on the people's channel, from one decade to the next. If nothing else, you can say they've been a staggeringly consistent live act throughout the years.

Key tracks: How on earth could I even begin to choose here? Have you seen that tracklist?

The paradox of R.E.M. at the BBC is that the only kind of person who would ever think to get the chunky 8-CD, 1-DVD boxset version of this album instead of the summarised 2CD-edition is going to be an obsessive R.E.M. geek, and yet it's those completionist geeks who are arguably going to get the least out of this box.

On paper - and in reality as well - this is certainly an impressive set. Collecting together a number of concerts BBC have captured on tape over the decades, the spread of the sets is massive. The early 1984 gig captures R.E.M. during a time frame that's rarely been recorded in this quality and the 1998 John Peel session sees the band go through a number of rare Up deep cuts (which for any Up-truther like myself is manna from heaven), whereas the triumphant shots of the band on top of the world between the electrified rock and roll fever of the 1995 gig and the joyously hit-gloating 1999 Glastonbury headline set show just what a commanding force the band were at their peak years. The disparate radio session cuts compiled together on the first disc and the last set's intimate Around the Sun period concert where they traded arenas for a church round off the selection well. It's a display of R.E.M. literally through the decades and each time they knock it out of the park, with the recording quality staying solid throughout. You really can't complain if you're a fan and you're not averse to live material.

It just... gets repetitive, and occasionally even redundant if you are a fan and you're not averse to live material, meaning that you've picked up any of the other official live releases along the way like I have. These are all concerts for the general public so you'll be hearing the hits and particular fan favourites constantly ("Losing My Religion" and "Man on the Moon" are literally on every concert apart from the 1984 one) and though it's in a way interesting to track their live arrangements through the years, they're never that different. A good third of the boxset is around the 1998-1999 period as well, so no real change beyond the audience size. The 2004 gig is effectively just an abridged version of 2007's Live with the only real new feature being Thom Yorke backing Stipe so very hauntingly on "E-Bow the Letter" (even if it's not as incredible as the 1998 Tibetan Freedom rendition with Mr. Yorke also in tow). The first disc is by far the worst of the lot: if you've heard the MTV Unplugged sets third of the disc sounds like a reprise, and there's four songs taken literally from a 1998 John Peel Session, which you'll then hear in its full (on a separate night) on the very next disc. The only thing from the first disc that really feels like it warrants a separate release are the neat acoustic takes on "Supernatural Superserious" and Editors' "Munich", both of which display yet another period the box otherwise doesn't touch.

Practically speaking those are only issues if you've heard all the other live albums the band have released already and you've generally become so familiar with this band's touring output that there's no real excitement or revelation involved in these sets. Which is why for a completionist like myself this might be a little more underwhelming than you'd think because it's all very familiar territory, tried and tested and heard through b-sides, live DVDs and other concert recordings. But, don't let that make you think that the actual sets aren't quality - R.E.M. is absolutely on point on each and every single one of these and the 1984 and 1995 sets are particular delights. It's great to hear the band young and hungry on the former, playing parts of the back catalogue that they'd only really revisit when they were old veterans on Live at the Olympia nostalgia fest; meanwhile in 1995 they were just as hungry after returning to touring following an extended break across the last few album cycles, blowing off the roof with the new riff-tastic new songs and louder rock versions of the quiet acoustic songs they had blasted off to the stratosphere with in the early 1990s (the funk rock "Drive" is legendary). Each disc contains at least a few unique deep cuts as well, some of which are brand new to the R.E.M. live recording back catalogue overall. 

It's all really good if you think about it logically, really: great songs, great band, great performances. So necking points out of this feels downright performative, but even considering its sheer size it doesn't give me quite the same rush as some of the other R.E.M. live records I've rated higher. R.E.M. at the BBC doesn't have a particular angle beyond being an absolute metric ton of BBC recordings, so nine times out of ten when I'm in a live album mood for this band I'd end up reaching out for the more unique and stylised sets that have been released separately before, simply because they feel more tailored for specific moods and mindsets and that's just what my preference with live albums is. And yet, it's hard to fault any of the sets too much and I thoroughly enjoy them when they're on. So... a neat 7/10, good but not great, depends on the mood kind of score? Sure. But with no disrespect to the work ethos Messiers Berry, Buck, Mills and Stipe.

Just never binge this though or you'll really get sick of "Man on the Moon" in a way that you never, ever thought was possible.

Rating: 7/10

Physical corner: The box this is stored in is your 'typical' CD boxset: thick square box housed in a sturdy slipcase. The big booklet goes through some of the general background for each of the concerts and has a number of interviews from big name BBC DJs. It's nothing extravagant - functional at best perhaps - but it's got that solid feel-good physical aspect of a decent box set. The paper fold over the slipcase is a bit flimsy though, it's been barely glued on and one of these days I just know it's going to get ripped.

Manic Street Preachers - This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours (20th Anniversary Collector's Edition) (2018)

CD1: 1) The Everlasting; 2) If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next; 3) You Stole the Sun From My Heart; 4) Ready for Drowning; 5) Tsunami; 6) My Little Empire; 7) I'm Not Working; 8) You're Tender and You're Tired; 9) Born a Girl; 10) Be Natural; 11) Black Dog on My Shoulder; 12) Prologue to History; 13) S.Y.M.M. / Nobody Loved You [hidden track]
CD2: 1) The Everlasting (Live Rehearsal Demo); 2) If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next (Dave Bascombe Mix); 3) You Stole the Sun From My Heart (Live Rehearsal Demo); 4) Ready for Drowning (Live Rehearsal Demo); 5) Tsunami (Studio Demo); 6) My Little Empire (Live Rehearsal Demo); 7) I'm Not Working (Home Recording Demo); 8) You're Tender and You're Tired (Studio Demo); 9) Born a Girl (Alternative Version); 10) Be Natural (Live Rehearsal Demo); 11) Black Dog on My Shoulder (Live Rehearsal Demo); 12) Prologue to History (Live Rehearsal Demo); 13) S.Y.M.M. (Studio Demo); 14) Nobody Loved You (Live Rehearsal Demo)
CD3: 1) If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next (Massive Attack Remix); 2) If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next (David Holmes Remix); 3) The Everlasting (Deadly Avenger's Psalm 315 Remix); 4) The Everlasting (Stealth Sonic Orchestra Remix); 5) You Stole the Sun From My Heart (David Holmes Remix); 6) You Stole the Sun From My Heart (Mogwai Remix); 7) Tsunami (Cornelius Remix); 8) Tsunami (Stereolab Remix); 9) Montana/Autumn/78; 10) Black Holes for the Young; 11) Valley Boy; 12) Socialist Serenade; 13) Buildings for Dead People

They’ve messed around with the tracklist again, but otherwise the album gets the re-release it deserves.

Key tracks: Of the bonus material, “Prologue to History”, “Valley Boy”, “If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next (David Holmes Remix)”

(This review is for the 20th anniversary reissue of This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours, for the review of the actual album please click here)

This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours is one of my favourite albums of all time. I absolutely love the albums before it and they all feel personal to me, but this is where it gets really intense in the chronology of the band's discography. Manics' reissue strategy has been haphazard and borderline random in how they choose which albums to re-release in fancy boxes (and what kind of boxes...), and it took This Is My Truth a long and winding road before it got its turn. Five deluxe box sets into the "series" and the album finally got a fancy anniversary set in time for its 20th birthday - and it's the first time where the re-release features an album that I fawn endlessly over and actually want a big fancy box set out of. The good news is that if you love the album like I do and you subscribe to the idea that there's more to these than just getting more money off fans, they really did do it justice for most parts here

But to tackle the controversies first, the Manics have once again messed around with the tracklist with one of their reissues and this time with even less logic behind it than on the Send Away the Tigers reissue. "Prologue to History", the b-side to "If You Tolerate This..." has long since been canonised by the band and the fans as the great lost single that somehow ended up as a b-side: it's a powerful, impassioned tour de force that breaks down the band, Nicky Wire and the world around them piece by piece, set to a thrill ride of a rock backing, with James' most intense guitar-revvings of this particular time period. It was originally left off the album because it would have stuck out like a sore thumb amongst its layered, introspective melodies - a fact which is adequately proven here as for the album's 20th anniversary, it now makes an appearance in the official tracklist. Even more bizarrely, it has replaced the fan favourite "Nobody Loved You", a decision that's one of the least obvious changes to make if you were to touch the original record. While both songs count among the most guitar-heavy cuts of the era, it's not a smooth replacement. "Nobody Loved You" may also be loud and serves as the album's last burst of sound before its somber ending, but it's also an emotional purge much like the rest of the record; the more sardonic "Prologue to History" on the other hand is a really awkward fit musically between the orchestral finale of "Black Dog on My Shoulder" and the ambience of "S.Y.M.M.", and tonally even worse. At least "Nobody Loved You" gets to cameo as the hidden track at the end, rather than being erased from history like "Underdogs" on the Send Away the Tigers reissue, but messing around with established tracklists in such a clumsy fashion really isn't doing wonders with these reissues.

Everything else about this reissue is exactly the kind of treasure chest this record deserves, however.

Disc 2 does the Manics reissue standard of providing various alternative archival recordings of the entire album. For This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours these are actually really interesting, given the album was the first time the Manics truly used the studio environment to its full extent. The demos then give a glimpse to a rawer version of the record, with a sound closer to the preceding Everything Must Go where you can really trace the lineage between the two albums. Most of the demos are "live rehearsal demos" i.e. the band playing it in their practice space, and the songs are played through with less whistles and bells, louder and more prominent guitars and in some cases alternative vocal melodies and arrangements. "The Everlasting" and "Be Natural" are particularly interesting in this regard, appearing in a more dynamic rock anthem form, and "Nobody Loves You" alternates between incredibly sparse verses and apocalyptically crashing choruses. The studio demos are more polished in sound but are just as fascinating, particularly "You're Tender and You're Tired" which has some notable arrangement changes. We also finally get the famous "Tsunami" demo that Wire always referred to as one of his most treasured archive cuts, and while Wire's overhyping of it has also oversold its difference compared to the final version, it does present a more dynamic, rocking version of the song which they've effectively adopted as their live arrangement these days. Finally there's a neat barebones home demo of "I'm Not Working" featuring James experimenting with an electric sitar and some alternative lyrics, proving that even the album's most production-heavy song can work hauntingly with all that left out.

There's also a couple of alternative takes. "If You Tolerate This" was a studio creation to begin with so no demo exists, and so what you get here is an alternative mix. It's mostly the same but a little shorter and snappier, with the only big difference being a repetition of the chorus over the wordless vocals of the outro. It's not a patch on the original but "If You Tolerate This" is still my favourite song of all time and even in this form it's as close to perfect as a song can get. The alternative version of "Born a Girl" is mainly just a rougher take, but it does have a more noticeable rhythm; a metronome (or a programmed snare rim tick) appears a few times to keep count and James sticks to its beat with his guitar and melodies even when it fades away. Neither are mindblowing, but they're different just enough to keep your interest - and together with the particularly intriguing set of demos, it's a set of rough takes that does genuinely act as a small treasure trove for the big fans of the album, showing sides previously unseen.

The third CD is the real treat, though - especially the further five b-sides located at the end of it. "Valley Boy" is a drop-dead gorgeous melancholic anthem with one of James' greatest ever guitar solos, and "Black Holes for the Young" is a suave, organ-lead duet with Sophie-Ellis Bextor that exudes class and elegance atop its swirling melodies - and the two are the closest to their mother album's sonical landspace. "Montana/Autumn/78" is another grade-A rocker that was left out because it just didn't fit sonically with the album but which is a veritable beast far beyond simply a b-side, especially with that pogo-inducing chorus. "Socialist Serenade" and "Buildings for Dead People" take a turn towards more extroverted politics away from the introspective touch of the main album, while also hinting towards the rawer sound of Know Your Enemy: the former drips with sarcastic venom as it brashly stomps around with its looped drums, and the latter is a gritty, distortion-heavy and devilish riff-monster. All five are great and far, far beyond in quality to what you'd expect from album outtakes. Manics had launched onto their golden period, and it affected even the discards.

The long list of remixes wouldn't otherwise be too exciting but this particular era was actually pretty good with them, and among them is the title holder of the best Manics remix i.e. the David Holmes remix of "If You Tolerate This", which turns the song into a ten-minute instrumental, dreamy epic that retains the original version's wistfulness and melancholy but moves it into a more cinematic territory. The Stealth Sonic Orchesta remix of "The Everlasting" is another winner, as the Stealth Sonic Orchesta remixes tend to be in their synth-orchestral ear bliss. The Cornelius remix of "Tsunami", the Deadly Avenger remix of "The Everlasting" (the better out of the two they did, the other which is the only non-inclusion on this reissue) and the David Holmes mix of "You Stole the Sun From My Heart" are also of note, and there isn't a single bad rework amidst these which is a rarity for remix sets.

You may note that the set doesn't include the DVD which the prior reissues have, but I honestly don't miss it either - they were always a neat one-time watch but otherwise left unused, and I'm much happier that we got more audio material in its place. The packaging is is a gorgeous coffee-table sized big book which just about leans on the acceptable side of filling up shelf space - and the grand size makes all the additional photos and artwork within really stand out. If you're into the physical feelies side of these kinds of reissues, then you can't really be disappointed by this, because it simply feels good to hold and own. And given the personal significance of this album to me, it's suitably celebratory. This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours is one of Manics' most significant albums and while they took a long time to get around giving it the reissue treatment, it is absolutely worth it. Even with the tracklist tampering, I'm not hesitant to award it the same points as the original album, because of just how good a fan package this is on top of a still-phenomenal record.

Rating: 10/10

Manic Street Preachers - Resistance Is Futile (2018)

1) People Give In; 2) International Blue; 3) Distant Colours; 4) Vivian; 5) Dylan & Caitlin (feat. The Anchoress); 6) Liverpool Revisited; 7) Sequels of Forgotten Wars; 8) Hold Me Like a Heaven; 9) In Eternity; 10) Broken Algorithms; 11) A Song for the Sadness; 12) The Left Behind
Deluxe Edition Bonus Disc: Original demos: 1) People Give In; 2) International Blue; 3) Distant Colours; 4) Vivian; 5) Dylan & Caitlin; 6) Liverpool Revisited; 7) Sequels of Forgotten Wars; 8) Hold Me Like a Heaven; 9) In Eternity; 10) Broken Algorithms; 11) A Song for the Sadness; 12) The Left Behind; Bonus tracks: 13) Concrete Fields; 14) A Soundtrack to Complete Withdrawal

Bright and happy but lacking in meat around its promising bones.

Key tracks: "International Blue", "Vivian", "Hold Me Like a Heaven"

A lot happened in the world after the last Manic Street Preachers album. Following Futurology, the band’s love letter to Europe, their native country decided to isolate themselves from the continent. The Western world became a political egg-and-spoon race of which country could make the biggest mess and the rest of the world wasn’t far behind, each month a new scandal. You would expect all this to have become a baiting carrot in front of Manics’ eyes - a band once famous for their open politics and their frustrated takedowns of the system they lived under, who you would think would be ready to face the new world order with fire and brimstone once more. But the Manics are no longer young angry punks, they’re now grown men with established careers, families and everything else that mellows a man out. So rather than facing the anger and misery around them, Resistance Is Futile became an album about how to run away from them. Despite its antagonistic title it’s really about the band wanting to openly welcome whoever would listen to it, inspired by the small pieces of hope to cling onto in life and the things you can retreat away from the world into, from art to family and the small pieces of good news in a world increasingly lacking in them.

Resistance Is Futile circles back towards the brighter and friendlier side of the Manics, as probably expected from an album that aspires to be positive. The marked difference from the previous albums where they focused on quick hooks and crowd-friendly choruses - say e.g. Postcards From a Young Man - is that Resistance Is Futile carves a little corner for itself rather than repeating past tricks, even if it does so by looking back. There's a very pristine, processed sound to the album with snappy drums, bright keyboard accents and clean guitars, which draw a direct line towards the 1980s. It's not Manics gone retro per se but there's a distinct element of the band flirting with the sounds of their own youth, tapping onto an aesthetic that takes them to their happy days of innocence. and which just so happens to combine very well with a more significantly melodic approach. In the past the band have always teetered on the edge of coming across calculated when being this direct, but Resistance Is Futile is above all sincere in its ideas: it sounds like a record that a group of friends make with themselves in mind above everyone else.

"International Blue" is the proof of concept. It was the made-to-measure lead single and with its shimmering production, tracked and processed drums and Bradfield's snappy guitar hooks, with all the sunshine pouring all over its pristine surface, it reflects across its parent album. It didn't sound like much when it was first announced but it's really shown its teeth as time has progressed and when in the context of the rest of the album, it's turned out to be an effortless and genuinely uplifting piece of summer-time rock most at home when life's looking lush. But while it's indicative of its parent album, the song that better exemplifies the album is "Liverpool Revisited". Its middle section from the solo onwards, all the melody rising to the sky and Bradfield adopting the millennial whoop/wordless vocal trend and claiming it as his own territory is genuinely superb: at that point the song reaches a timelessly epic nature, with a steel-strong melody taking a stand and announcing itself as something iconic right there then. It's the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of Resistance Is Futile, partially thanks to its cunning use in the album's announcement trailer. But it's an incredible section surrounded by padding of much lesser caliber. If it wasn't for how clunky the stuttering gear switch between its verse and chorus is, you'd be inclined to forget the song existed. And that's the great conflict of Resistance Is Futile.

There are constant traces that Resistance Is Futile could be a surprising yet excellent new addition to the Manics' run, but then so much of it is best described as fine. It's an album that's on an even plateau of quality for most of its duration, but the climb isn't particularly tall and rarely does it leave an impression. There's a key hook to each song that's enough to keep them alive in memory but not so vividly that you'd come back for them. At worst it's when there's clearly something great in the background but it's weighed down by the rest of the song: like the sad case of "Liverpool Revisited", the Anchoress duet "Dylan & Caitlin" which is an exercise at creating a story sung from two perspectives that's a first for the Manics and which only occasionally almost gets as exciting in practice as it is in concept, "In Eternity" threatens to be an appropriately glamorous tribute to David Bowie but the band practically hold it back, and the Wire-sung "The Left Behind" could be a deliciously whiplashing subdued and melancholy finale for the otherwise bouncy album but largely it just plods along and whimpers to an ending. And that's the songs where there's an easy point of interest poking out - so many others play out pleasantly enough but fade into the background. The trio's performance is great and Wire's lyrics are mostly genuinely interesting as he tilts his introspective pen to a new angle, but the songs let them down. It's hard to pin down what exactly has gone awry there, but simply put the material simply isn't that strong despite its best efforts, like everything is a revision or two away from the standards Manics fare. But on the plus side there's only one clear dip and that's "Broken Algorithms", another Nicky Wire vs The Modern Technology ramble which is at odds with the rest of the album's message and sonically is a throwback to Send Away the Tigers, which no one really needs.

Credit where credit's due though, and there are a few songs across the album where the album does reach the potential it shyly displays throughout. "Vivian" is a lush uptempo cut and effectively takes what "International Blue" does right and improves on it even further. Throughout the album Bradfield loves delivering short signature riffs that make up most of the earworm hooks for those songs, and the chorus licks of "Vivian" are the best of their kind on the record - especially when they begin to alternate with one of the album's strongest vocal melodies (in particular when The Anchoress does another cameo in the later choruses). With a little drama in its verses and the soaring centrepoint moments it's practically playful, and it puts a big dumb smirk on my face whenever it comes along. And if "Vivian" is the joy in the album's soul, "Hold Me Like a Heaven" is its heart. Wire's mother passed away between the last album and this, and "Hold Me Like a Heaven" is an ode to her, which the band use to dive into the idea of music as a positive, healing element in a time of uncertainty and sadness. It's the epitome of the album's concept because it's a real, personal angle to it and so it becomes by and far the greatest song on it, with a chorus melody so poignant and effective that even the re-appearance of those very anti-Manicsesque wordless whoah-ohs hit precisely with the personal but universal appeal they strive to be. It's a beautiful tearjerker dressed up as a stadium pop moment - pulled off brilliantly.

Highlighting so few songs across an entire record seems a little unfair for Resistance Is Futile because it's an album I want to root for - there's a solid concept, there's places where that concept is proven to work and if everything clicked together as well as it could I'd quite happily accept a friendly shoulder of optimism from a band who rarely offer it. Yet even I, the rambling man who has written a small book's worth of words about this band by now, am stuck at finding anything really that interesting to talk about it. It's fine. It's nice. And for most of its duration that's all it reaches. When Manics have stumbled in the past they've at least fallen head-first into the gutter; Resistance Is Futile is the first time they've delivered an album that's enjoyable enough but doesn't invite any real reaction about it, good or bad - even if I'm disappointed about it I can't even feel that dismayed, it simply doesn't provoke that strong a reaction. It begs for stronger set of songs to go with the ideas it represents and no matter how in tune the band sound, it's the strength of the material that ultimately matters: and so, Resistance Is Futile is a nice enough listen that gets wheeled out once a year to be enjoyed briefly before being returned to the shelf to be forgotten again.

The set of demos on the deluxe edition are rather unexciting as well, and many of them resemble the album versions to the point that they sound more like rough mixes than work in progress - and at that stage you're better off just listening to the record. The two studio originals are more interesting though.. "Concrete Fields" is a bittersweet nostalgic stroll sung by Wire, an autobiographical rant that sounds jolly but Wire looking at through melancholy lenses - complete with an interpolation of Terry Jacks' "Seasons in the Sun" towards the end that after the initial shock actually works. "A Soundtrack to Complete Withdrawal" shares the soundscape of the main album but tonally is closer to the last few records, and creates an introspective mini-epic with a decidedly moodier lurch forward than the rest of this era. And in all honesty? While neither are true b-side standouts, they both probably could have made the album in lieu of some other songs that are on the main disc without me batting an eyelid. They likely didn't make the cut because they're at odds with the album's general quest for optimism, which is fair - but they've would've been intriguing offshoots.

Rating: 6/10

LUMP - LUMP (2018)

1) Late to the Flight; 2) May I Be the Light; 3) Rolling Thunder; 4) Curse of the Contemporary; 5) Hand Hold Hero; 6) Shake Your Shelter; 7) LUMP Is a Product

Laura Marling and Mike Lindsay collaborate on a headphone-friendly and frustratingly short dream sequence journey.

Key tracks: "Late to the Flight", "Curse of the Contemporary", "Shake Your Shelter"

I started losing track of Laura Marling's career rather soon after it began. I loved her debut but she found her signature sound after it, and unfortunately for me her more somber folk leanings just left me longing for more of her first album's playfulness. There was the occasional nice little ditty but it took until 2018 for me to really pay attention again. "Curse of the Contemporary", the lead single from LUMP - Marling's collaboration with Tunng's Mike Lindsay - was the most refreshing thing she had been a part of in what felt like forever. The sneakily foot-tapping groove underneath the manipulated guitars was a fantastic fit for Marling's still ethereal and charismatic voice, and after an extended period of that voice getting lost between shades of gray and beige it was great to hear it flourish in something full of life again.

"Curse of the Contemporary" is a bit of a red herring for LUMP's self-titled debut, in that it's the only song across the brief seven-track set (of which only six are really songs) which has that kind of mischievous sense of fun to it. LUMP is, for most parts, very much the opposite. The electronic-oriented production is characterised by vast amounts of space, with carefully selected instrumental details growing their presence ever-so-subtly across the stretched out minutes. Marling's verses, oft repeated and rarely shifting into any other recognisable songwriting sections, are more akin to mantras where the rhythm and tone are just as important, if not more, than the actual words. Marling's voice is a fantastic one, and here she's often using it in a way completely different to what I'm used to from her. The soundscapes she and Lindsay then craft around those vocal parts have a slight sense of dream-like askewness; lots of ethereal moodiness to sink into, if it wasn't for a foreboding feeling of everything teetering over the edge just out of sight.

LUMP's strengths lie in that atmosphere. The segued-together songs form one large aural ambience where the differences between the songs may not necessarily strike out if you're not actually paying attention. LUMP is a headphone album, through and through - you only get everything out of it once you're actually in a position where you can literally hear all the small movements and can focus on them, and this is particularly true for the first half. The gorgeous slow start "Late to the Flight" is whatever you could call a lullaby that softly brings you back to the waking life, and "May I Be the Light" flutters and stutters nervously with a specifically chosen set of instruments slowly tying it down towards its end - both different in their own ways, but so obsessed with keeping a certain kind of sonic cohesiveness which paints them in vastly the same colours. It's only the cymbal crashes in the pseudo-rock-out finale of "Rolling Thunder" that first burst the cloud wide open briefly, signaling the album's incoming decision to sit up and make a stand for its second half.

As positively hypnotic as LUMP can be, it never gets as exciting as it does on "Curse of the Contemporary". Marling's multi-tracked vocals form a layer over layer on top of the swirling, ghost-like guitars, and the song picks up in twitchy intensity as it dances away towards its conclusion: it sounds like two collaborators hitting off perfectly outside their usual comfort zones and brainstorming a party of their own. It's the rightful stand-out song of the album, and while it's completely out of sync with the rest of the record stylistically, its placement right in the middle works out fantastically naturally as part of the overall flow, where the first half feels like a intro building itself piece by piece and then the second half serves as the comedown from the rollercoaster ride.

Following its centrepoint, LUMP showcases another side of itself - one that starts giving a bit of a backbone to its ambience while still operating from its dream-like shell. The bubbling synth buzz and pounding beat of "Hand Hold Hero" disturb the record's overall serenity with a number of juxtaposing sounds, threatening to rise up and march out but holding itself back by a thread. "Shake Your Shelter" becomes another key standout: of all the songs on the album's calmer spectrum it's the most fleshed-out in its arrangement, sounding like an alternative rock slowburner coming from somewhere deep underwater, with the weight and cold dark foreboding of the dark water surrounding it. It's arguably the most conventional cut of the record but it gives the short run of songs a fitting finale by bringing all the sound elements of the project together. Its only ugly spot is how abruptly it leads to the premature end of the actual outro track "LUMP Is a Product" - for such a collected album, it finishes in a rush.

(Fun fact: "LUMP Is a Product" differs rather drastically between the digital and physical versions of the album. On CD/LP it's little more than an ambient intro with vaguely audible, heavily processed vocal clips; digitally, it features Marling audibly reading out the album's credits that would otherwise be found in the actual physical liner notes. Notch for the streamers - it's a far more intriguing of a closer with Marling's spoken word acknowledgments on it than without.)

The quick closure is a shame because for its short duration LUMP is an intriguing, exciting little collaboration piece, and it ends just as it's really began to entice you. It's great to hear Marling, whose voice I've always loved, partake in something where she sounds properly engaged again, and there's something truly entrancing to the songs here when they get going. It misses just that little extra dash of something more to make it a magical listen, which makes it particularly pesky that it also bears the hallmarks of a one-off project where the lightning might never strike again - but it's something that stays with you, simply because the presence of Marling in this Twin Peaks dream sequence ambient pop dimension works so well.

Rating: 7/10